A Train Encounter

HOPE MCKEEN WAS BORN with two strikes against her. She was taller than most men, and she showed her Indian blood. She thought back to a social she once attended in her hometown of Elgin, Illinois. A nice -looking man finally seemed to look past her beige skin and politely asked her to dance. As soon as she stood up and towered above him, he walked away. She had six more years until she was out of her twenties, but people already called her a spinster. That’s why she was sitting by her dozing mother on a noisy train to Saint Louis instead of sitting by a warm fire with her own husband and children.

Her mother’s bright blue eyes popped open, and she sat up straight. “How long have I been sleepin’?"

“About an hour or so. Saint Louis is still a way off.”

“It can’t get there fast enough. What time will we get there?”

“We are supposed to arrive around three o’clock this afternoon.”

Hannah McKeen rummaged through a satchel at her feet and brought out a small, soft, blue blanket. “I can’t wait to take a long, hot soak in a real bathtub tonight! But right now, I still have enough time to make some progress on the baby’s present.”

Hope returned to Jane Eyre. “And I have enough time to finish a few more chapters.”

Hannah clicked a disapproving tongue. “You should be puttin your time to better use.”

Hope turned another page. “I’m no good at things like knitting, so I spend my time reading about people with interesting lives.”

A few minutes later the book flew out of her hand as the train came to a shuddering stop.

“Oh, my lord! What’s happening?’

Hope patted her mother’s hand. “Don’t worry. Probably stopping for a cow on the track.”

She looked up to see a sweating conductor standing in the middle of their car. “Folks, you need to keep calm and quiet. We are fixin’ to be robbed, and all you can do is keep your mouths shut and give them what they ask for.”

Amidst the gasps of alarm, a rough-looking old mountain man, who was sitting across from them, calmly brought out a battered rifle. “How many men? This could even up the odds considerable.”

The conductor frowned at him. “Put that away, old timer. There’s four of them, and you don’t stand a chance.”

A well-dressed businessman, sitting behind him, spoke up. “Yes, put it away before you get us all killed.”

The other male passengers murmured their agreement except for a quiet Indian who sat at the back of the train. Hope saw him look up for the first time during their trip and watched his dark eyes flash around the train, seeming to take in every inch of the passenger car.

Her mother’s firm voice startled her. “Listen to me, Katrina Hope. Keep your eyes down. Don’t do anything to draw attention to yourself.”

Three dirty, unshaven men suddenly appeared in their midst, grinning and brandishing their pistols. The one who seemed to be their leader grinned as he looked around their car. “Why, pleased to meet you, folks. This here’s Slim and Tubs, my comrades. Now, nobody needs to get hurt today. Just deposit all of your money, jewelry, and other valuables in one of the bags these boys are takin’ around the car, and we’ll be out of your way in no time.”

Hope sat with her eyes cast down, peering at the men from under her long eyelashes. The passengers were emptying their purses, wallets, and pockets into the bags that were thrust in front of them. At first things went smoothly, and then an elderly Indian woman hesitated when told to remove her wedding ring. The bandit called Slim slapped her hard across the face and jerked the ring off her finger. “You better do what I say, squaw!”

Hannah gasped and whispered, “Quick, help me get my wedding ring off. It’s stuck!”

Hope tugged frantically at the ring, but it wouldn’t budge. Slim suddenly hovered over them with a long, sharp knife. “I can help you with that, darlin’, if you can’t get it off.”

“No, please just give me a minute.”

Hope took out a tin of salve that she carried in her pocket to treat minor injuries. She rubbed the salve on the ring and around her mother’s finger. Feeling it loosen, she breathed a sigh of relief, yanked it off, and raised her eyes to the outlaw’s face.

He grabbed the ring and pulled Hope to her feet.

“Why, looky here what I found, boys! A long-legged, brown filly to give us a ride!”

Her diminutive mother stood and gave him a hard shove that landed hm on the floor. “Don’t you dare touch my daughter, you hooligan!”

About that time the old man stood up, aimed his rifle, and shot the outlaw in the head. The leader immediately returned the fire, and the brave man sank to the floor with a gaping hole in his chest.

“Tubs, come back up here, and get that rifle. Sit down, old lady! And you, young woman, you just cost me my best man. You’re goin to have to pay for that.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her close to his chest. Looking up at her, he whistled. “You are a big gal, ain’t you? Well, don’t worry, sweetheart. You won’t look so big when you’re layin’ under me.”

Hope winced as he gave her right breast a hard, painful pinch.

Hannah looked frantically around the train, trying to catch someone’s eye. “Won’t somebody please help us?”

Hope noticed that the conductor, the businessman, and all of the other men sitting in plain sight, dropped their eyes to the floor. She was a strong girl. Maybe if she pulled hard enough, she could free herself.

The outlaw laughed at her struggles. “Why, you are a feisty filly! I’m goin to really enjoy breakin’ you in. Hurry up now, Tubs, get on to the back and get our loot. I’m anxious to get gone.”

Tubs grabbed up the bag his partner had dropped and handed it to his boss. When he took one of his hands off to snatch the bag, Hope attempted to break free again, and Hannah stood up to help her. The leader shoved her mother down and put a gun to her forehead. “If you or your daughter give me any more trouble, I swear I will blow a hole clean through to your brain!”

He raised up when a thudding noise came from the back of the train. “What’s goin on, Tubs?” He threw Hope down beside her mother. “You stay here, and remember what I just said.”

Putting the rifle across his shoulder, he turned his back on them as he walked away.

While the two women huddled in fear, Hope screamed when she heard another gunshot. What now?

A minute later, the tall Indian, a knife and pistol in hand, stood beside her. “It’s all right. He’s dead.”

People quickly gathered around him and began offering their thanks. The conductor motioned for them to stop. “Wait a minute, folks. Don’t you remember, I said there’s four men? One is waitin’ outside with the horses. He’s liable to be in here any minute wantin’ to see what’s goin on.”

The businessman smirked. “I believe we can handle one outlaw.”

Hannah stood up. “Can you now? Where was all that courage when I asked you to save my daughter. Not one of you would look me in the eye then.”

He blushed and dropped his head.

She motioned toward the Indian. “Now, that one. That one, I believe could handle another outlaw.”

The Indian gave her a slight smile, and she grabbed his hand. “What is your name, sir?”

“My name’s Alex Christie.”

She shook his hand. “Well, I am mighty pleased to meet you, Mr. Christie, and I thank you for savin’ my daughter today.”

Alex pointed to the body of the old man. “I didn’t do it alone.”

“No, you didn’t. He was a brave man too. I will have to ask the conductor his name so I can learn who his people are and give them my thanks.”

“You ladies stay here until I tell you it’s safe.” Alex put his knife away, cocked the pistol and handed the old man’s rifle to the conductor. They walked off the train with the other men following close behind them.

Hope jumped when a gun sounded outside. “I hope Alex is all right.”

Her mother smiled. “Oh, it’s already Alex, is it? You know he puts me in mind of your father. A tall, dark, handsome Indian.”

“Yes, but with my luck he is probably married.”

The elderly Indian woman spoke up. “No, he isn’t. Indian women have been in short supply, especially in Indian Territory where me and Alex come from.”

Hannah frowned. “And why is that?”

Seeing the woman’s hesitation, Hope spoke up. “Mama, I believe it’s because of what some of the tribes went through on their way to Indian Territory. I have read about it in the newspapers. Most of their old people, children, and women either died in the holding camps or on the trail a dozen years or so ago.”

The woman nodded her head. “That’s right, young woman.” She peered closely into Hope’s face. “You look to be an Indian. Are you?”

“Yes, I am part. My father was Osage, Cherokee, and Scottish.”

“Ah! That Osage and Scottish blood explains why you are so tall.”

“True, but she’s part Dutch, too, from my side, even if you can’t see it. We’re going to get on a stagecoach at Saint Louis, and from there we will travel to Indian Territory. My son’s got a place near Fort Gibson. We’ll be livin’ with him and his family.”

The old lady chuckled. “I have a feelin your girl won’t be livin’ there long if Alex Christie has somethin’ to say about it.”

Hannah smiled big and patted her arm. “From your lips and in God’s ears.”

Eight months later, Hope giggled as the baby stirred inside her. Gently patting her stomach, Alex whispered in her ear, “What’s so funny?”

“That old lady must have been a prophet.”

“What old lady?”

“You know. That one on the train.” His hand couldn’t cover his big grin. “Oh, that old lady. Yes, Aunt Oma has been known to dabble in Cherokee medicine from time to time.”

“You never told me she was your aunt!”

“You never asked.”

Regina McLemore

When my Cherokee ancestors arrived in Indian Territory, it was not a choice. Their names are included on a muster list of the Trail of Tears, and their strength has inspired me to write the stories that they might have told.

My own story began in Stilwell, Oklahoma, where I have lived most of my life. By twenty-four, I was married with two children, teaching language arts at Stilwell Junior High School. I diversified my career, eventually retiring as the librarian of Siloam Springs Middle School in Siloam Springs, Arkansas, in 2010.

Even though I returned to work temporarily as a part-time library clerk at Stilwell Public Library, I found time to pursue my passion, writing. For the next seven years, I was published in Guidepost Magazine, the Oklahoma Genealogical Society Quarterly, the Green Country Anthology, the Starwatch Anthology 37, and in various newspapers and newsletters.

I am happy to say that I have completed a trilogy of historical fiction books: Cherokee Clay, Cherokee Stone, and Cherokee Steel. My new project is writing a nonfiction book, Before We Were a State.